


The Bard's Muse

by FatWithoutKatsudon



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American!Geralt, Bisexual Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bisexual Jaskier | Dandelion, Disaster Jaskier | Dandelion, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Folk Singer!Jaskier, Getting Together, Jaskier and Valdo are friends, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, M/M, Meet-Cute, Not Beta Read, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Sort Of, Thirsty Jaskier | Dandelion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valdo Marx is a bad friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26821636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatWithoutKatsudon/pseuds/FatWithoutKatsudon
Summary: “People like me now and I hate it.” A gruff, almost growl of a voice says from behind him. Jaskier jumps out of his skin and into the rafters. He was startled sure, but also whoever had just spoken most certainly just saw him put bread in his pants.“Beg pardon?” He manages to get out and he turns around. Ohoh. It’s the gorgeous man, his muse, the one he just sang a song about without permission in front of a crowd. The one whose forearm was thicker than his neck. The one whose thighs, Jaskier stopped that train of thought before it could begin.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 176





	The Bard's Muse

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [shortcrust's](https://shortcrust.tumblr.com/) social media series [you follow?](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620703).
> 
> After stumbling across it the second time and seeing the line
> 
> "One time when I was touring in my 20s I improv’d some lines about the terrifying contractor working on the venue I was playing in. Later he walked up to me and said ‘people like me now and I hate it’ and anyway that’s how I met my husband"
> 
> I knew I wanted to read that story, so I wrote it!
> 
> Also a big huge thanks to my pals [Maxrimus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxrimus/pseuds/Maxrimus) and [ jacksparrow589 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksparrow589) who gave me advice for this fic, despite not being in this fandom!
> 
> I had no beta, all mistakes are my own. Hope you enjoy!

The venue was small, really small, a small hall in a small town outside of London. Jaskier was surprised anyone had even heard of him here, nevertheless, it was packed. And this sort of audience was exactly the sort of audience he loved. The energy alone was electrifying, it transformed him, made him stronger. 

“For my next song, things are going to get a little weird,” he paused, waited. The crowd thrummed with anticipation and cheered. There it was. He put down his acoustic guitar and grabbed his lute from where it was stashed behind some other stuff on the small stage that was barely a stage. He was nervous. He knew it was a gamble. No one has heard of a freaking lute being played. But he learned it out of love for times past and the old storytellers tradition, traveling from town to town passing news and tales, a bard was the way history was passed down, remembered. That’s what he wanted to be, if he was being honest. But people didn’t expect a lute, so you warm them up with a guitar, some covers, some originals. And oh how this crowd had been receptive. His originals were more story than anything, really getting to the roots of folk music: catchy, tells a story, easy to sing along to, easy to spread. Now he’s playing the second half of his set how he wanted every single one of them to be played, on a lute. 

His fingers flitted about as his voice crooned through the air. A slow one to start. The audience was receptive. The audience liked it. The next one, an actual folk song, tune long forgotten, but the words had been preserved and he remembers when he found the old book in the library, how he could hear the tune that didn’t exist. He played it now the one the words demanded, the one he is just guessing at, that he wrote himself. He plays it in traditional style. He plays the chorus once, and then a second time getting the crowd to join in. Oh and join in they do. He knew he loved this crowd. Everything was going perfectly. 

Next, an original, on the lute, not the guitar, the real test. God, he hopes it goes over just as well. If he thought he could get away with it, he would play everything on the lute. Mixing old folk songs and covers and originals in his own bardic style. The audience continues to be receptive, he loves them and decides to tell them. He strums the last note of the song, smiles and looks out at the crowd.

“You all are just absolutely beautiful, stunning really. How’d you like the last one?” A pause, a chuckle. Good. That’s the exact reaction he wanted, “I wrote that one walking barefoot on a dirt road.” Another pause, scan the crowd, “I know it sounds very romantic, truth is I was piss drunk and lost my shoes and my way, wrote the thing on my phone and barely remembered, woke up in a field” and then a drinking song immediately, encouraging everyone else to get as piss drunk as he had been that night. 

Neither song was about the blackout or the break up that led to him getting that drunk and wandering the country, the first one hinted at it, touched the very edges, but, this one.. this one was about the fleeting free feeling of when the booze hits right and hits right and hits right, about lowering your guard and having fun. He danced around the stage when he could, during musical breaks in the song. He had been dancing all night, but this one he always goes all out on, usually too hard, tonight was no different. How could he not? The audience was drinking and dancing as well, and bless them, joining in on the choruses. It was everything he dreamed. 

“You really are the best audience, I wish I could just take you home with me,” another pause for another chuckle. “Now this part of my set, I call the bard part, what we’ve been doing so far,” another pause, more of a hesitation. Get yourself together, Jaskier. He chooses to make his smile bigger, brighter. “If you’re willing to go with it, what the bard is best at is telling stories, how would you all like a story?” Every single nerve thrummed, he was glad his stage performance was known for all his chaotic nervous energy, truth is he just can’t hide it. The crowd responds immediately in the affirmative. Asking questions of the crowd always made him nervous. Nothing is worse than a silent crowd. “Oh you really are lovely, aren’t you?” 

He sits on the stool provided that he had so far only used as an obstacle to dance around. This song was placed after the last one for exactly this reason. If he kept dancing and going on he would get winded and even more sweaty. This song was designed to give him a break. Then a few more to build the audience back up and finish strong. The night was almost over. Oh how he would miss his perfect audience. 

“I’m going to sit for this one. It’s a bit of a tale, with plenty of adventure. You all feel free to sit too.” His eyes widened in surprise a little as the audience actually did sit down. There weren’t chairs in this venue, it was just a tiny hall, there was barely even a bar. This group of adults, late teens and early twenties, but adults still, honest to God are sitting crisscross on the floor, like children at storytime. This was perfect. They really were the perfect audience, this felt just like storytime. He couldn’t hold back his smile. He looked across the sea of sitting faces all lined with enthusiasm. He started his song, and it was exactly what he promised. A daring adventure, about a hero fighting beasts. His eyes caught on a shock of white hair, a man in the back still standing, one of the only people still standing. And holy tits he was gorgeous. He had his arms crossed and what looked like a permanent scowl on his face, the man looked a little terrifying, but oh those muscles. This was a man who could tear him apart, and not in the sexy way. Well, hopefully also in the sexy way. And dear God, that jaw line. He got to the final part, where the hero saved the monster instead of slaying it, and he was blessed with the most beautiful sight in the entire world. This man smiled, it was barely more than a slight upturn of the mouth but it was gorgeous. Thank God for this tiny venue not being able to afford stage lights and being so small, if it were any different he would’ve missed out on this handsome stranger and his fey smile hard won. 

He started a new song, it wasn’t planned. It was improvised. It was about that man and his gorgeous smile that felt like a prize beyond measure. He wasn’t sure if it was just a terrible idea or the worst idea he ever had, but he watched the man the whole time. The man’s eyes never left Jaskier and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or if he was trying to shoot lasers out of his eyes through the back of Jaskier’s skull, but Jaskier was physically incapable of looking away from the stunning vision of a human. When Jaskier mentioned this stranger’s fey smile, he was rewarded with another. His weak human heart couldn’t take it, just as quickly as he thought the words, he was singing them. Luckily, he kept the other thing he was thinking in his head, that it probably meant he wasn’t going to be murdered by who is surely the love of his life after the show, it would have been a fitting death. He realized he didn’t have an ending to the song. He stopped singing and played a few chords that would sound like an ending, that audience still cheered, not as receptive as they had been, but still they were cheering. 

As he stood up, he felt he had to explain himself. He didn’t want this beautiful audience to think that was his best. Or that beautiful, terrifying man to think that song was written for anyone else. “The ending kind of got away from me on that one. Sorry. I just made it up on the spot.” The crowd cheered again more enthusiastically, closer or maybe even exceeding the energy and cheers from the rest of the night. “Oh you liked that? You can thank my muse, standing in the back. I don’t know his name.” Unfortunately, as soon as he stood, the crowd had started standing, so he couldn’t see the reaction of the man, his muse. He hoped his assessment was right and it wasn’t a bad one, though if he had to go, being crushed to death by 200lbs of pure muscle wasn’t a bad way. 

He finished his set. The crowd never stopped being perfect. As soon as he was out of sight, he pulled a bread roll from his pockets, one of the benefits of his stage costume, was the ease with which one could hide snacks. He was always famished after a performance and hated waiting a single second longer than he had to for a snack to tide him over until the stage was broken down. He tore off pieces of the roll and chewed cheerfully. He was so pleased with how well it went from start to finish, especially the bard part. He pulled out a second roll and picked off a bite. The crowd would just about be out of the venue now and there was a time limit to how long he could stay to pack up. He sighed and headed back to the stage to get his gear packed, continuing to reflect on tonight’s performance and putting the half eaten roll back in his pockets as he did. He couldn’t believe he improvised a song about a complete stranger on the spot in front of an entire crowd.“That really could’ve gone terribly, Jaskier. Keep it in your pants next time,” he mumbled to himself as he started packing his things. 

“People like me now and I hate it.” A gruff, almost growl of a voice says from behind him. Jaskier jumps out of his skin and into the rafters. He was startled sure, but also whoever had just spoken most certainly just saw him put bread in his pants.

“Beg pardon?” He manages to get out and he turns around. Oh _oh_. It’s the gorgeous man, his muse, the one he just sang a song about without permission in front of a crowd. The one whose forearm was thicker than his neck. The one whose thighs, Jaskier stopped that train of thought before it could begin. 

The man stared. Jaskier felt like he was being appraised. Like this man could tell every thought in his head, and everything he was worth with his nearly golden eyes. How is that color even possible? Jaskier got a little lost in the stare, no matter how inscrutable it was.   
The other man let out a sigh that seemed long suffering, despite them only just having met. “I said ‘people like me now and I hate it.’” But then he smiled. And oh what a smile. Every word he had sang about that smile did it no justice now that he was close enough to really see it. This man would be the death of him, he knew it. 

Jaskier returned the smile with one of his own. He was sure it was bigger and brighter than any he held on his face tonight, possibly ever. “Pretty weak as far as pick up lines go.”

“Hmm.” The gorgeous man grunted. It was like music. Ok, Jaskier could admit it to himself, maybe he was a little far gone if he thought a grunt sounded like music. But then the man continued with another little smile, “we can’t all make up songs on the spot about a stranger at the far end of the room.”

“I’m Jaskier.” He ventured, just in case. These smaller shows people weren’t always showing up for him, especially in a town this small, people were just looking for something to do. Even bigger shows people weren’t really coming for him, usually he only played big shows with other bands, he had yet to be the headliner. 

“Geralt.”

Jaskier switched to his flirtiest smile, “Want to grab a pint?” For what felt like a year or two at least, Geralt stared. Jaskier felt like he could feel the gears grinding. This was a man who thought every action and every word through thoroughly. The exact opposite of Jaskier who literally just sang an entire song off the cuff of his sleeve, belting every errant thought out with the melody. “Come on. You don’t want to keep a man.. with bread in his pants waiting.” Jaskier made a face. Maybe saying the first thing that comes to his mind the second it comes to his mind wasn’t the best strategy, after all.

Geralt raised an eyebrow, hiding his amusement, “and you have a problem with my pick up lines?”

Jaskier, never one to turn down a challenge, had the convenient advantage of being a songwriter. And what’s a songwriter but a modern day poet?

He leaned in as close as he thought Geralt would allow and gently said, 

“If our bodies, could a song compose;  
my heart would inquire of your hands pale and fine;  
If they’d grasp it gently, to hold like a rose;  
Or treat it as a morsel upon which to dine.”

At which point Jaskier’s body betrayed him and his stomach growled. 

Geralt let out the tiniest chuckle, it was probably closer to a snort, and if Jaskier thought his fey smile had him enamored it held nothing to even that partial laugh, even if it was at his own expense. If Jaskier was being honest with himself, he knew he would follow this man to the edge of the world. After what felt like an eternity of bliss basking in the after image of the almost laugh, Geralt suggested, “How about we grab dinner instead?”

***  
Jaskier was different from anyone Geralt had ever met before. Geralt was willing to wager Jaskier was different from anyone Geralt ever would meet. The man took him up on his offer of dinner and talked most of the way through it. Geralt was surprised Jaskier had time to not only eat all of his food, but swipe some off Geralt's plate as well. Jaskier talked about his dreams and about something he was calling bardcore and about traveling musicians and about his own travels.

Geralt has never been good at this sort of thing, conversations or dating in general. His last relationship was full of passion and fire, until the fire burnt them both alive. Geralt was good at listening, though most people didn’t believe that because of his demeanor. Usually he tried his hardest to add value to the conversation, but the best he would do would be grunts and hums. Jaskier flew through conversations and made it easy for Geralt to join, even if the conversation would sometimes become hard to follow as he jumped from one subject to song lyrics to a new subject that had nothing to do with the previous subject or song lyrics. But Jaskier left space for Geralt, he was never demanding or prodding, he would just tell an anecdote or story and then wordlessly give the floor to Geralt to tell his own, if he wanted to, or he would fill the silence. He did a surprisingly good job at knowing when to do which. 

Geralt admitted to Jaskier that he wasn’t really into music, he was only at the show because he was working on the roof of the building and when he came down to leave for the day, his truck was blocked in and the show was about to start, so he decided to grab a shitty beer and wait it out. Jaskier gasped at this and pretended to be offended before saying he wanted to buy a fruit basket for every person who inconsiderately blocked the work truck in. 

Geralt told him he didn’t know his original parents, but that he was eventually fostered and then adopted by the man he considers his father, sometime around middle school. He told him of the three other men who he thought of as brothers, Coen who he had been placed with when he was younger with an earlier family, and the other two who were fostered and adopted by Vesemir, Eskel was around the same age as he was, Lambert a few years younger. He talked of the ranch he worked at, about his favorite horse, who he named Roach, about how he hated to leave Montana but he needed to get as far away from his bad break up with Yennefer, how they were still friends but anytime he was near her it was like he lost his mind. “Talking about exes on a first date? How bold!” Jaskier had teased. 

Jaskier shared his own hardships afterward, how he left his family because he didn’t want to live his life by their rules and wanted to follow his own path, and how he got disinherited because of it. How Virginia de Stael (and he always said her name like that, Virginia de Stael, it was never just Virginia) had inspired him to write music when he was young and how he thought he was in love with her. That he lived with her after he left his family. How his breakup with her was the scariest time in his life because he didn’t know what he was going to do, only what he wanted to do. How he left her house with nothing but a bag of clothes, his guitar and his lute. How he slept around with anyone who would have him (usually rich, frequently married) just so he’d have a roof over his head, he called it fun, but behind the flippant attitude he seemed sad. How he was making money with music now and was happy just to have a guaranteed roof over his head and not have to worry about bills. How he was still figuring things out. 

“Isn’t it funny,” Jaskier had said when Geralt mentioned he was figuring things out as well, “we’re like two boats adrift in the ocean that never should have met and yet still did.” 

Geralt was even more surprised when he responded, “maybe we’re meant to figure things out together.” He probably would’ve died of embarrassment if it hadn’t been for the way Jaskier’s face lit up when he said that. 

Their late dinner turned into dessert, dessert turned into drinks, drinks turned into the restaurant staff kicking the two of them out so they could close, which turned into more drinks at the bar down the road until they closed. Geralt knew he had much more to share, and guessed Jaskier did too, but by the end of the night Geralt felt like Jaskier knew him better than anyone else. 

***  
“I have met the love of my life, I’m sure of it this time, Valdo!” Jaskier rolled onto his back on the bed and sighed dreamily into the receiver, trying not to get tangled in the cord. 

“Of course you are, Jas. What’s her name this time?” Valdo acquiesced. 

“Oh, uh, his name actually.” Jaskier paused, hoping this would go over smoothly. Valdo knew Jaskier was bi, he had told him so very early on in their friendship. But this was the first time they had talked about one of his male lovers. 

It took several seconds before he heard something between a huff and a sigh, that Valdo had clearly tried to cover or disguise, “his name, then?”

Jaskier let out a breath of his own, full of relief, “his name is Geralt. And let me tell you Val, he is perfect. Everything about him is wonderful. He’s sweet and charming and a little shy, but also a little gruff. He seemed a little scary at first, because of his gruffness and maybe he looked a bit broody and honestly he looks like he could snap me in half with his pinky. Oh my God, speaking of that his muscles are insane! But he was so nice once we started talking! And you aren’t going to believe this, but we had an honest to God meet-cute!”

“Sounds almost too good to be true. Are you sure he’s not some sort of creep?” 

“Of course he’s not a creep! He’s perfect! We talked all night, he even walked me to my door where we talked some more. I feel like I know his very soul, Val.”

Valdo made a tight lipped noise, “sure, Jas. It sounds like a fairy tail. I’m sure this won’t be anything like all the other times.” 

Jaskier frowned at the receiver and answered in a small voice, “of course it won’t. This time is going to be different I can tell.”

There was a soft noise from the other line that didn’t sound like it came from Valdo before the other man continued, “Yeah, you’re right, of course it won’t. Listen, Jas, I’ve got to go. I’m sure it’ll be fine, I’m just watching out for you. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Jaskier heard the click before he even had the chance to say goodbye. He held the button to hang up as he untwisted himself from the cord and placed the phone on his bedside table. He glared at the phone, taking out the foul mood that was coming on on the defenseless object. Next time he had the money to spare he was buying a cordless phone. 

Jaskier headed downstairs to make either a late breakfast or early lunch, whichever it was, it was a pretty poor one, even if his mood hadn’t been soured by the conversation with Valdo. Was he doing what he always did? He was well known for his exploits and for falling in love after a single glance. But this felt different. More solid. More real. He had even told him about his family! That’s not usually first date or even first year information! And Jaskier was willing to bet a quiet stoic man like Geralt didn’t usually tell potential partners he first met half of what he told Jaskier last night. This isn’t the same, this isn’t the quick useless love Jaskier had convinced himself he was in to feel less guilty about fucking someone to have a roof over his head. Jaskier had his flat for years now. He was by no means rich from his music, and still had to stretch every penny to make things work, but he hadn’t had to play “bill roulette” for awhile, and he made enough with music that most weeks he only had to work a few shifts at the local pub. Jaskier wouldn’t let Valdo dampen his mood, no, last night was most assuredly a good thing and next weekend he would see Geralt again. Jaskier would hold on to his memories of the night before.

_Jaskier leaned against the door to his flat, willing the night to last longer. Geralt had walked him to the door. Literally walked him right up to the door. It was the most romantic gesture he had ever been on the receiving end of._

_“Then, you’ll never believe what Essie did, she took the microphone from the singer at the lecture and sang a rendition of Baby Got Back like it was a church hymnal!”_

_The whole silly story Geralt never took his eyes off him or made him feel like he didn’t have his whole attention. His intense gaze laser focused on Jaskier like he was the most important thing in the world. At the end of the story, he even got another tiny smile and after an entire evening of resisting the urge, Jaskier leaned in for a kiss. And oh what a kiss it was! Jaskier knew he was going to stay up late tonight writing a song or twenty about this kiss, but at the moment all he could focus on was how close Geralt was leaned into him, Geralt’s hand gripping his hair, his other hand trailing his back, the place their lips met, each point of contact another pinprick of electricity._

_Jaskier broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Geralt’s.“You can come up to mine,” Jaskier started, “if you’d like.” He added a small jerk of his head up towards the window of his apartment building._

_Geralt pulled back his head without releasing any of the other points of contact and stared into Jaskier’s eyes. Somehow his intense stare was even more intense, his eyes searching for something in Jaskier’s own, maybe it was the secret of life he was searching for, Jaskier thought he almost had that figured out, so maybe Geralt would find it there._

_Geralt, honest to God, growled and if Jaskier hadn't already invited him up, that would’ve guaranteed a request for him to rumple up his sheets, posthaste._

_“I,” Geralt started and stopped, “I shouldn’t.” Jaskier’s face fell and before he even realized it Geralt was placing a chaste kiss on his lips, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I want to, I just,” he let out a disgruntled hum, not quite a growl this time, “I want to do this right, I have to work early and you would wake up alone. I don’t want our first time together to end li-“ Jaskier had cut him off with another impassioned kiss that was very enthusiastically returned._

_After what felt like either hundreds of years or maybe a microsecond, Jaskier ended the kissing once again. “Sorry to cut you off, you were just being so sweet I couldn’t stand to spend another second not kissing you.”_

_Geralt’s reply had been short and simple, “Hmm.” Jaskier was sure he had nearly broken the code on Geralt’s hums and grunts. He was pretty sure this one meant something along the lines of “it’s silly to call me sweet, just look at how tough I am”. Ok, Jaskier wasn’t going to be able to do an exact translation, yet._

_After a few more years of kissing against the outside doorway to Jaskier’s apartment building, Geralt is the one who pulls away, just like Jaskier had, Geralt rests their foreheads together and keeps his eyes closed, “when can I see you again?” His voice was heady, irresistible, but open and vulnerable too._

_“Is next Friday too soon?”_

_Geralt pulled his head back again, just like before, keeping all points of contact but allowing him to look into Jaskier’s eyes and the tiny quirk of the lips Jaskier had been calling his fey smile had nothing on the smile spread across Geralt’s face now. A full smile, it even showed his teeth. Jaskier may have swooned if he weren’t currently pressed between Geralt and the door. Geralt’s low baritone reaches his ear, “Friday sounds perfect.”_

In the present Jaskier cursed at his past self. Friday was much too far away. 

***  
Geralt was feeling like a fool. He had almost smiled no less than three times today for no reason at all and he hasn’t even made it to work yet. You’d think only getting three hours of sleep the night before would make him unbearable to be around, but not this time. 

He pulled up to the tiny office of the construction company where he works. He hadn’t done construction before he decided to come to England to chase his roots. While the chasing of his roots was a hairbrained idea that had more to do with putting a lot of distance between himself and the entirety of Montana than it did him getting in to England, the construction work suited him. He didn’t like it as much as he had when he worked at the ranch, but working for his ex-girlfriend’s parents was about the least appealing thing Geralt could think of, even if he had known the Vengerbergs most of his life. Vesemir had suggested he could go to the family cabin for awhile to take a break. Lambert made a rude comment about his mother that held the undercurrent of a suggestion that he should seek her out. Eskel was the one who actually convinced him that going to England to seek his mother out might not be the worst idea. He scowled thinking about it. His brothers meant well, but once he got to England he realized he had no good way to find Visenna, a few hazy memories and a first name don’t exactly make it a simple task. He hums to himself, to focus, no use thinking about her now.

As he entered the office he was greeted by Yarpen, and gave an answering nod with a “Hmm”.

“I saw ya kept the truck overnight, did ya have trouble at the last site ya worked yesterday?” Yarpen asked, Geralt guessed he was feeling chatty today.

“No,” Geralt answered plainly. After a few moments pause, he could tell Yarpen wouldn’t accept the monosyllabic answer. In addition, he offered up a disgruntled hum and another pause before he answered, “I got blocked in. There was a concert. I didn’t get home until late.”

Yarpen laughed at this, “A concert? I can’t picture Geralt Rivia at a concert. You stayed for the whole thing?”

Geralt hummed an affirmative and broke away from Yarpen to get his assignments for the day.

As he worked he let his mind wander, he couldn’t stop thinking of when Jaskier met his eyes toward the end of one of his songs, and how amusing his song was, that the monster was the damsel in distress after all. Then the next song, there were no other words for it, Jaskier serenaded him. His eyes didn’t leave Geralt’s and Jaskier made up an entire song about him on the spot. Geralt didn’t think he had ever met anyone so impulsive or foolishly brave. He was happy he was seeing him again in a week, happy it gave him time to process. A whirlwind romance was the last thing he wanted, he wanted something that felt grounded, real. And from the tidbits Jaskier had revealed to him about his past, it sounded like he could use exactly that as well. A week was a good time frame, they could learn more about each other in phone conversations, and then have a better idea of what they wanted and not just physical magnetism by Friday. 

***  
Jaskier sat on the windowsill of his living room and plucked at his lute strings as he stared at the open notebook on his lap. He was trying to recompose the song he had made up on the spot last night, he had written three new ones when he got home, but it was imperative that he commit the first song he composed for Geralt to paper, maybe even give it a proper ending. He tried singing it as he played along. 

A tilt of the lip,  
A work of art,  
That fey smile  
My weak human heart,  
Tossed across the aisle

No, that was shit. Surely it was better last night? Jaskier leaned over his lute to scratch out and rewrite some phrases in the notebook. The light was fading fast and he was going to have to turn on the lamp soon. He strummed a few more chords and tried a few more lyrics, closer he thought to the ones he sang the night before. He leaned back to stretch, he really needed to get that light turned on, and food. Food was a good idea. 

Jaskier was shuffling around the kitchen and lamenting that he needed to go to the shops soon, trying to make something edible out of his decidedly few ingredients when the phone rang from the other room. 

“Hello?”

A gruff voice that made Jaskier’s heart soar into his chest responded, “Jaskier.”

“Geralt!”

A low hum in the affirmative. 

“Hi! How are you?” Jaskier continued on. 

“Good. Tired.” Geralt paused and Jaskier wondered if he should say something or wait for Geralt to continue, just as the pause stretched nearer to the awkward, Geralt grunted, “How was your day?”

Geralt cared about his day! Jaskier was delighted. He was beginning to realize that phone conversations with Geralt were a little more complicated. When Jaskier could see his face it was a little easier to guess if Geralt had more to say on any subject or if Jaskier should continue his endless stream of stories. “It was delightful! I polished off two new songs and I’m working on a third, I’m trying to remember all my lyrics from the one last night and fine tune it.” Jaskier paused to give Geralt a chance to protest about the song that was obviously about him, granted everything he had written since last night had been about Geralt, but if he had a problem with that he would scrap them all and Geralt would never have to know. 

Geralt gave another hum in the affirmative. Jaskier then launched into what he thought the lyrics were and asked Geralt what he remembered and if this sounded more correct or this other one. Geralt gave his input, mostly in grunts and hums, but he kept engaging and didn’t seem annoyed at the neverending flow of words Jaskier had bottled up. Whenever he responded in full words he sounded fondly exasperated at worst but most of the time he just sounded fond, he really only seemed to get exasperated when Jaskier asked him about the same lyric several times in a row going back and forth between the same two options. The conversation moved on from song lyrics to all the little things you talk about when trying to get to know a person. Jaskier asked Geralt about his favorite color (blue) and his pet peeves (people bothering his things without asking) and everything else he could think of that he wanted to know about the man. Geralt always answered in a way that Jaskier guessed was enthusiastic for Geralt. Jaskier told more stories and tried to pry some out of Geralt as well, which again, was harder to do on the phone than in person. 

While Geralt told a story about his time at the ranch and one of his rides with Roach, Jaskier realized not only had they been talking for hours, but that he had abandoned his attempts at cooking dinner and was starving. He did his best to stretch his phone from the bedroom to the kitchen and grab a loaf of bread. He tried to eat it quickly and silently.

“Jaskier?” Geralt had finished his story and Jaskier hadn’t immediately started talking again. 

Through a mouth full of bread he says, “This is embarrassing.” He takes a second to swallow, “I was getting ready to fix dinner when you called and then realized I hadn’t actually managed to fix or eat dinner just now and, well, I had a mouth full of bread just now.”

That earned Jaskier another one of those rare beautiful Geralt chuckles. Yes, it was definitely worth making a fool of himself every time. 

Once Geralt stopped chuckling, he asked “Is this some sort of weird kink thing?” 

Jaskier could feel his face heating up and was sure he looked like a tomato and spluttered, “no, I, it’s just, well, it’s something easy and I was hungry and my phone doesn’t reach the kitchen and after shows I don’t have time to eat and pack and the pockets are big and-“

Geralt cuts him off with another chuckle, “I was just teasing, Jaskier.”

Jaskier calmed down enough to give a nervous laugh of his own, “Oh. Right. Of course.”

“If you need to eat, I can hang up.”

“No!” Jaskier had the words out almost before Geralt even finished. “No, it’s fine. I want to keep talking. Tell me another story and I’ll finish my bread.”

“Ok.” Geralt said it so softly and Jaskier was sure he could hear that fey smile on his lips when he said it. And then he launched into a story about his brother Lambert and how he would poke and tease and Geralt was sure at least part of his dry sense of humor was because of him. Once he finishes Jaskier launches into a story of his own with a determination to not slip up again. 

They continue trading stories and asking questions back and forth for quite some time. As it gets later into the night Jaskier realizes he started doing most of the talking with only appreciative grunts or hums from the other end of the line. 

“Geralt?”

“Hmm”

“Am I talking too much?” Jaskier knew he had the tendency to do so and it had annoyed past lovers and friends alike. 

“No.” Geralt answered and then paused for what felt like a century at least.Geralt’s voice sounded even more gruff than normal when he said, “I like listening to you talk.” Jaskier could feel his heart swell at Geralt’s admission, and the silence must’ve gone on long enough because Geralt continued, “Sorry, I’m not very good on the phone and I’m getting tired.”

Jaskier, despite melting into a gooey puddle of infatuation, asked the sensible question, “Do you want to get off the phone to go to sleep?” 

“No.” Every time Geralt uttered the syllable it seemed to hold so much weight. Jaskier was increasingly sure his assessment of Geralt from the night before was correct, that he thought everything through and assessed every word and action as if it were life or death. “Talk more.” Geralt says, “I’ll try to stay awake and listen.”

If Jaskier hadn’t already ceased being solid, if he were more than just a puddle on the ground, he’s sure his knees would’ve gone weak. Despite his liquid state he suddenly found himself on the bed. Perhaps he was still human and he did swoon after all. 

Jaskier started in on another story, making his voice softer this time, using a tone that was more suited to bedtime tales of fairies and heroics than about the time Jaskier and Valdo were being chased by one of Jaskier’s former lover’s partner and ended up in the sewer from a storm outlet pipe. While he told the story he untwisted himself from the phone cord while keeping the receiver to his head and settled down in bed. 

His story got a few chuckles and appreciative grunts at the correct parts, so Jaskier decided for the next story he would try one of those heroic tales, Geralt had smiled at the one from his song, about the hero who saved the monster, so he told him another tale about the hero from a song he hadn’t played the night before. He added some parts here or there, tried to make it more of a story than a song, though several of the rhymes still stayed. When he had finished Jaskier was nearly asleep himself, and the silence stretched on for only a minute or two, it was a comfortable sleepy silence, those didn’t tend to drag on, after all. 

“Geralt?” The silence continued, the only sounds from the other end of the receiver were the other man’s slow steady breaths. Jaskier smiled to himself as he uttered, “Good night, Geralt, sweet dreams.”

Jaskier didn’t stop smiling as he rolled to his side and settled in to go to sleep. Geralt liked hearing him talk. Geralt wasn’t annoyed by all of his stories. Quite the opposite it seemed, Jaskier was even more sure of the claim he made this morning, this time was going to be different.

**Author's Note:**

> Jaskier's poem he uses as a pickup line is the Succubus Bait song from The Witcher 2.
> 
> Some headcanons I have for this AU:  
> Geralt's dad was American, he drug Visenna and Geralt to America and then abandoned them, then Visenna abandoned Geralt and he entered the foster system  
> Jaskier's family is part of the peerage and he would be a Viscount if he hadn't left his family (so the same as canon)  
> Jaskier and Valdo were friends until they were bitter enemies (plus Valdo is kind of a jerk while they're friends)  
> This takes place in maybe 2002, because in the fic that inspired this they've been together for almost 20 years and it was fun writing about things like corded phones
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this! I had such a blast writing it! Let me know what you think in the comments or over on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fatwithoutkatsudon)!


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